Category: gifts

In a strange way, the constant pain is a gift. Without it I wouldn’t notice how wonderful some days are.

Hello dear reader.

I hope you had a wonderful Easter and that today finds you well.

I’ve had almost five good days in a row! I think we may have finally gotten the right combination of meds going. I said almost five because today would have been the fifth, but I was up most of last night in pain.

Monday I got a letter from my insurance company (Medicare/Medicaid) saying they won’t cover the long-acting medication. I called my doctor’s office yesterday and they’re doing the whole “prior authorization” thing. Sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s about 50/50.

That letter really upset me. They do this to me a lot and normally it’s not a huge deal. If they won’t approve it we’ll use something else. I just want something that will keep the pain down enough that I can get out of bed.

I had honestly forgotten what it was to feel good. Friday I was dancing with the mop. I haven’t done that in… I can’t even remember the last time. I felt like me, a me I thought had been destroyed by my illnesses.

Okay, so I was in the kitchen wearing jeans and a t-shirt with my back brace on, and I look about 100 years old, but this is how it felt! Now that I’ve discovered it’s not completely gone, I don’t want them to take it away.

Enough about that. I’ll keep you posted on what happens. Now let’s move on.

I really want to focus on the (almost) five days of feeling good. I made it a point to be completely present and aware. That’s the point. We (people who live with chronic pain) enjoy the good days to the max when we get them. Feeling good and having energy is something healthy people take for granted. We don’t. It’s like people who’ve never seen darkness don’t really appreciate the light. People who’ve never been lonely don’t get excited about having a friend. I try to enjoy the good days 10x more than I hate the bad ones. I hang on to them for dear life during the dark days.

In a strange way, the constant pain is a gift. Without it I wouldn’t notice how wonderful some days are. I’d just sleepwalk through them. How do I know? Because that’s how it used to be for me.